


Hidden In The Back

by 1stly_fannish_writing_dispensary



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cry With Me You Peasants, Gen, MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU AREN'T CAUGHT UP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:24:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7673494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1stly_fannish_writing_dispensary/pseuds/1stly_fannish_writing_dispensary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the swan song for Grant Douglas Ward, vessel of Hive, a really mean alien. Lincoln is there too, and yeah. That scene was one of my favorites of the season because after everything they're just... sitting. Because what can they do? Take in the world, on Lincoln's part. For Hive, I think, it's allowing one of its occupants to see through its eyes for the last time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden In The Back

Being purposeless was always his greatest fear; being a disappointment came afterward, as he progressed, working his way to the day when he would be worthy of something important and memorable. It didn't come from his parents. It didn't come from Garrett. It came from Hive. Even now, when he knew he'd been wrong, he was still grateful for that, because it meant he'd come close to doing the right thing, and if that sounded corny, well, screw it, he could afford to be. No one was listening, and he wasn't going to speak to Lincoln, since Lincoln had already lost too much blood but wouldn't think about that as he attempted to strangle him for what he'd done. And yes. Yes. It was wrong. He knew it and he wished he was a teenager, young and alone in his room, something that was rare. He remembered this day because that was when he made the choice to torch his house instead of drink the rat poison he'd found two days before, when he was hiding in the shed from his parents with his littler brother--looking back on that, he wasn't sure if he'd hurt him or not. He went for the answer that had so far been the most correct, many times in a row: yes. And he was sorry. Add that apology to the list. Let it burn with him, since it meant nothing. 

They would have a purpose without him. 

Next to him, he heard Lincoln speak to Hive, but he didn't bother to listen. Lincoln was the one who cared for Skye the right way. Lincoln was the one who called her Daisy. He'd taken that away from her, too, this security, the root she finally decided to put down. She was happy with Lincoln. Ward was part of a being that liked to burn things in the name of rebuilding them, but that hadn't gotten done, had it? 'Did it,' he said quietly to Hive, who heard him, he could feel the words register in its mind, but it didn't respond. Still, Ward knew he was right. 

"I always wanted to see the world," Lincoln said.

Then Hive said something about making the world a better place. On that, Hive and Ward agreed. That's what had made Ward such a seamless vessel, so eager for that shiny fabled Grand Plan, which wasn't too grand, but it was the closest he could get. He understood it; he grasped its concept. That, in hindsight, like everything else now was, should have been when he knew what a mistake he was. Should have gotten a gun and used it to do Coulson and Fitz and everyone a favor. That would've been preferable even to helping them find a way off the planet where Hive was trapped. They wouldn't trust someone who'd stranded them there in the first place, and they wouldn't forgive him, and he wouldn't want them to. He hoped that the only reason he stayed alive in their memories was to be a topic of hatred, something they accessed in order to find anger and direct it into a form of productivity. 

'Are you speaking, or am I?' Grant asked Hive. 'If it's you? Shut up. We're both here to burn.'

'You don't care anymore.' Hive said this like the fact it was.

'No. And why do you?'

'There's nothing else.'

'There shouldn't be.'

Hive said nothing because it had at last agreed. When he spoke next it was another statement of fact disguised as a question. 'You want to stop hating yourself, don't you? I can feel that urge. It's faint, but it's there.'

Lincoln opened his hand and let the gold cross-necklace float away from him. 

'You want to ask about Skye,' Hive said. 'Tell me to, and I will.'

How was she? That's what he wanted to know.

Instead, Ward went to the back of Hive's consciousness and nestled in the other minds that over time had woven themselves together, felt them pulse as one, felt their confidence in Hive even as they knew they were at an end. It was either bravado or dignity. He watched the necklace surrounded by drops of blood suspended in the air, and looked out at the peaceful blue of earth and the impenetrable blackness pinpointed by the stars.

'I wish I found out how to love her right,' he thought to Hive. 'I don't think you could have taken me, then.'

He didn't know he would haunt people with both memories of hate and love, things that were kind, even if they were learned from the people around him. In the end, the most loving thing he knew was to sit quietly among former geniuses and aristocrats and scientists, anonymous but ultimately vital. He was softer and gentler at that moment. He was happy then. And he didn't have to copy or follow anyone. ~~The End~~


End file.
